


Let's hurt tonight

by Shared_Shield



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pneumonia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 23:11:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shared_Shield/pseuds/Shared_Shield
Summary: Destiny is not too kind to our heroes, but at least they have each other.





	1. Panic Attack

**Author's Note:**

> The first crossed off prompt of my bingo card: Panic Attack  
> Pairing: Garcy (implied), Flogan (platonic... more or less)
> 
> Find me on tumblr (sharedshield) and request other prompts of my bingo card!
> 
> Enjoy!

It happens fast. Too fast. So fast that Flynn can't act in time, isn't able to reach Lucy before a bullet lodges itself into her side. She looks at him in wonder, a question in her eyes, before she crumbles.

This time, he's fast enough, catches her before her body meets the ground and cradles her against his chest. She's panting, her hands are gripping her bleeding side, but she doesn't say anything. There's still that questioning look.

 _Why didn't you save me?_ He can hear her voice inside his head.

"I'm sorry. Lucy, I'm sorry", Flynn hugs her tighter to his chest, shields her body with his own as the bullets continue to fly.

Suddenly, there's Wyatt.

"We have to take cover!", he calls over his shoulder, "Get her to safety and stitch her up!"

Flynn nods, scanning the area. Lucy is gripping the lapels of his late 19th century jacket.

"Take her to the woods, they won't follow us there. I'll cover for you."

For once there's no discussion, Flynn tightens his hold on Lucy and escapes the bullet rain for the forest, runs until the noises of the fight fade into the background and waits for Wyatt and Rufus to catch up. Together, the Team finds an abandoned hut, enough shelter for the moment.

Flynn himself stitches Lucy up with thread and needle from a minimized first-aid kit Wyatt keeps smuggling into the past ever since he's learned about 17th century medical practices.

They get the bullet out, thankfully it hasn't buried itself too deep into her flesh and has left all her organs intact and Lucy holds her own like a champ. Her consciousness fails her only when they're done and leaves her slumped against Rufus' broad chest.

 

Garcia's head is filled with white noise as he stitches her up, fingers steady, eyes concentrated he works as careful as possible, not even daring to take a deep breath risking hurting her even more. Only when he's done he takes a deep gulp of air, gasps like he's emerging the water after a dive, and squeezes his burning eyes shut. The needle slips out of his bloodied fingers as he staggers to his feet, the world around him tilting and swaying, and he stumbles out of the hut and into the cool night.

 

Bile is still burning at the back of his throat when Wyatt comes to find him. His jacket, soaked with blood and other bodily fluids, lies discarded beside him and Flynn shivers against the sharp gust of the nightly breeze.

"You did a good job in there", Wyatt says in a way like he tries his hardest not to care.

When he doesn't get an answer, he dares to look at the man he works steadily to despise.

Flynn's on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed, but he doesn't make a sound. Wyatt isn't sure the other man even breathes. 

"Flynn?"

There's a choking sound coming from him now and for the first time in quite a while, Wyatt feels scared. 

Bullets don't scare him anymore, he isn't scared of Rittenhouse, because those are things he can dive out of the way of, things he can fight, but this, Flynn struggling not to break right in front of him, he can't just walk away from this. But he can't fight this either, no matter how much he wants to.

"Flynn?", he kneels down in front of him, cautiously puts a hand on his shoulder.

Flynn is shivering, trembling like a leaf, and Wyatt can feel how he fights, how he tries to calm his thoughts, to sort the true stuff from his nightmares.

"She's alright, man, Lucy's gonna be fine, thanks to you. Come on, look at me."

Much to Wyatt's surprise, he does. His eyes are wide, panicked, so many horrors unspoken of are shining inside them. There are smears of blood on his forehead and on his cheek. He's wheezing, choking, desperately trying to get air into his constricted lungs.

"Hey, calm down, okay? It's alright, everything is alright", Wyatt grabs his face, forces Flynn to meet his eyes, just like Lucy did with him in the Alamo. "Slow, deep breaths, come on."

He keeps one hand against his face, moves the other one to Flynn's chest, applies some pressure there to ground him, steady him.

A mighty shudder runs through him as the tension releases, Flynn gulps down air like a starving man and grabs Wyatt's wrist likes a lifeline.

"She could have died, Wyatt", he chokes out, "Lucy could be dead, I can't-"

He breaks off as his throat constricts again, now because a sob is pushing against it.

Wyatt doesn't need him to finish, he knows what Flynn wants to say.

_I can't lose another person I love._

He gets it, he really does. He loves her too, after all. And he lost Jess once, just like Flynn's lost his wife and daughter, but he got her back. 

And for once Wyatt decides to let go of his grudge, of his carefully groomed hate for Garcia Flynn. He decides to see the man, not the terrorist; the widower, the childless father.

"I know, Flynn. But you haven't lost her, okay? We just need to get her home, and then everything will be fine."

He gives a jerky nod, finally taking deeper breaths, easier ones.

Wyatt gets up, rips one of the lapels off Flynn's jacket and rounds the hut to find the small stream they crossed to get here. Wetting the fabric (thank god it's running water, he doesn't want to think about what lives in standing water these days) and returns to Flynn, grabs his face again to wipe off the dried blood. 

The older man watches him warily, there's caution in his eyes, and a bit of shame. Wyatt doesn't comment on it, hell, he knows the feeling.

He tries to think of something else to say but Rufus steps outside.

"Uh, guys, we probably should go- home", he stumbles over his words when he finds Flynn and Wyatt on the ground. "Are you alright? 'Cause getting back to the Lifeboat with two invalids might be a little difficult."

"We're alright now." Wyatt gets up and extends his hand to Garcia. "Aren't we?"

Flynn looks up to him for a moment, then he grabs the hand and stumbles to his feet. "We're alright."

 

Flynn doesn't talk on their way back to the Lifeboat, he doesn't answer Agent Christopher's inquiries either. Wyatt finds him in the infirmary guarding Lucy's bedside later.

She's sleeping now, pain meds and exhaustion have dragged her under again.

"Thank you, Wyatt", Flynn says eventually, voice hoarse and quiet.

The soldier watches him from his spot at the door, waiting for Flynn to face him. He eventually does.

"I was…", he tries, "I couldn't… Thanks."

Wyatt pushes himself off the wall and joins Flynn at Lucy's bedside. His hand hovers over Flynn's shoulder a few seconds, then he lets it drop, squeezes lightly.

"It's nothing."


	2. Pneumonia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt of my bingo card: Pneumonia  
> Pairing: Garcy
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr (sharedshield) and request some more!
> 
> Enjoy!

„What the hell is taking so long?!”, Wyatt kicked against the metal staircase leading up to the Lifeboat’s entrance.

Emma had jumped again, this time into 1919, and Lucy suspected she planned to meddle with the Treaty of Versailles. Agent Christopher had ordered Wyatt, Rufus, Lucy and Flynn to go. Two soldiers because Paris would be crawling with police and nobody felt comfortable sending Jiya away after she’d just spent three years in the 19th century.

The only one they were waiting for was Flynn. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon”, Lucy tried to calm him. It wasn’t like Flynn to be late, in fact he usually was the one waiting for them. “I’ll go get him.”

Wyatt grunted and Jiya shot Lucy a meaningful look, but she ignored both of them. Worry was gnawing on her insides since the night before, when she had gone to his room seeking solace for her troubled thoughts. He hadn’t answered his door, and at first, she had thought he was messing with her, but upon letting herself into the room she had found him already asleep. 

While unusual, Lucy had written it off to exhaustion. After saving Rufus, Emma and Jessica had sent them on a hunt across centuries and continents, barely granting them any time to breathe. Lucy herself was bone tired, but Flynn (and also Wyatt for that matter) took on most of the physical work, so he was probably trying to get every second of sleep he was granted.

Lucy had been able to quiet her worries then and had gotten a full night of rest herself, but they had come back in the morning when the rest of the bunker had breakfast together and Flynn remained to be seen, despite being an extraordinary early bird. It needed until lunch for him to make an appearance, but even then, he was taciturn and grumpy.

“There you are!”

She met him only one step out of the kitchen area.

“Huh? Yeah, sorry, needed to get some spare ammo”, he pulled on his jacket, the modern one, they’d steal some time appropriate wardrobe once they arrived in 1919, and passed her without so much as a look.

“Finally”, Wyatt groaned when they got the Lifeboat.

“We’re on a schedule here, Flynn.” Agent Christopher gave him a stern look, but like Lucy she got ignored. He passed her with long strides and vanished into the Lifeboat after Wyatt.

“Is, uh, is he alright?”, Rufus asked, “’Cause I know what his good days look like and I really don’t want to be in Paris in 1919 when he has a bad day.”

“He’ll be okay”, Lucy gave Rufus an encouraging smile and followed him to the staircase, “Or at least I hope so.”

 

Traveling with the Lifeboat was always ruff on Flynn. Apparently, the Mothership was a much more comfortable way to get through time, something like the cruise liner of time machines.

Usually, he needed somewhere from five to ten minutes to get his bearings after the landing, sometimes it was worse, depending on how long and what he ate before the jump, you know the drill.

Lucy was glad for some extra time to take a breath before actually starting the mission, and she knew Wyatt was too, although he’d never say so in front of Flynn. The only one who seemed comfortable with this sort of transportation was Rufus.

This time however, it was worse. Rufus and Lucy had managed to get them clothes and Wyatt had secured the area at the outskirts of Paris and Flynn had yet to emerge from the bushes he vanished into after the landing.

“Flynn? Are you okay?”, Lucy tentatively took a few steps closer and was greeted by the sound of dry heaving, accompanied by heavy, rattling coughs.

She wasn’t a big fan of seeing puke or any bodily fluids, but Flynn really didn’t sound like he was okay.

“Flynn?”

“Would you give me a damn minute?!”

Lucy didn’t pay his angry call any notice and stumbled her way through the bushes until she found him, on his hands and knees, breathing heavily.

“I told you to leave me alone”, he sighed sitting back with his face up to the sky. Flynn was pale, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple changed its direction due to the different angle and rolled into his hair.

“You didn’t, actually”, Lucy sat down beside him, trying not to get tangled up in her skirt while doing so. “You’re not okay. You should have stayed at the bunker.”

“I’m fine, Lucy. And I don’t really see that happening, Emma is still on her warpath and with Wyatt being tangled up in this mess as he is you need a soldier who’s actually able to do his job.”

He stood in one fluid motion, there was no swaying or stumbling as he held out his hand to help her up.

“Are you? Able to do your job?”, he narrowed his eyes at that, defensively, but Lucy didn’t back down. He was right, Emma was more determined to get them out of the way than ever and Wyatt wasn’t able to make objective decisions when Jessica was involved. They needed Flynn and he couldn’t allow himself any slipups, not when a mistake could easily end with one of them dead.

“When am I not?”

 

Flynn kept his word, he always did. The mission went without so much as a hitch, maybe not entirely successful since Emma was able to escape, but history remained the same. The authorities of 1919’s Paris had only to deal with the unidentifiable bodies of sleeper agents, unlike they had to in the original timeline.

He managed to keep it all together, to stay upright and walking until they reached the Lifeboat, but then Flynn crashed spectacularly. His head was reeling, this damn collar and the tie were too tight for him to breathe properly and whole ensemble was so hot he felt like he was suffocating.

Somehow, he reached his seat, but only to fall forward and to press the heels of his hands to his eyes. Why wouldn’t everything stop spinning?!

“Hey, Flynn, are you alright, man?”

If he got a dollar every time someone asked him that, he’d have enough money to build his own time machine.

He grumbled in response to Rufus concerned question, but it was Lucy who provided an actual answer.

“I think, he’s running a fever. He really shouldn’t have come with us”, there was a pause and some shuffling, Flynn didn’t bother enough to look up. There was a rushing in his ears now and he felt another coughing fit coming by the way his lungs constricted.

“Flynn? Uh, Gar-Garcia? Do you want some water?”

Lucy carefully put her hand on his shoulder, a featherlight touch he didn’t even register because his body shook with suppressed coughs. Flynn pushed himself out of his seat again and stumbled to the Lifeboat’s entrance, desperate for some fresh air and not wanting to infect the rest of the team with whatever ancient disease he’d caught with his coughs. 

With his luck, it was probably tuberculosis. Or the plague.

The fit lasted a few minutes, it got so far that Flynn found himself retching again. When it finally was over, the world was still spinning but the breaths came a little easier. Lucy handed him a bottle with water and after he rinsed and then took a few sips, he staggered back to his seat.

“You think you can handle the trip back without puking all over the backseat?”, Rufus asked jokingly, but, truth to be told, neither of them wanted to know what would happen if either of them expelled the contents of their stomachs mid-flight.

Flynn made a vague gesture in Rufus’ direction, giving his okay for lift off after he fumbled his seat belt close. Then he let his head drop against the seat, closing his eyes and thus ignoring Lucy’s worried looks and Wyatt’s pointed glares.

 

“How did it go?”

“Emma escaped again, but we could prevent her from blowing up the meeting. And we need a doctor”, Lucy carefully climbed down the staircase followed by Wyatt.

“Did somebody get hurt? Is Rufus okay?”, ever since they brought Rufus back, Jiya was even more on edge when they left for missions.

“I’m fine, Jiya. But Flynn is sick”, Rufus was the last one to step out of the Lifeboat, hands unsurely hovering behind his colleague in case he should fall.

But Flynn stubbornly made his way down the steps and headed for the bedrooms, when Agent Christopher planted herself in front of him.

“I don’t need a doctor.”

He tried to stare her down, but Denise only raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He really wasn’t at his usual level of threatening, with glassy eyes, pale skin and an overall posture that screamed ‘Please, let me go to bed’.

She reached up to feel his skin, but he painfully flinched away from her touch.

“It’s not bad, just a cold or som-“, his feeble try to escape her examination ended in another coughing fit. He turned away and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, trying to will the coughs to stop, but soon he was doubled over, desperately gasping for air as dry coughs kept on tearing at his throat.

“Okay, okay, uuh… You probably should sit down”, Lucy came up beside him, hands fluttering helplessly over his shoulders until she gripped his arm and carefully guided him to the ground. “Deep breaths, ju-just try to breathe.”

Flynn slumped to the ground, the coughing finally subsiding. He was panting, a little groan escaped his lips as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on his knees.

“I’m getting a doctor and medicine, get him to his room”, Agent Christopher ordered, already on the phone.

“I don’t-“

“That’s not up for discussion!”

 

Flynn was wrong in two things. First, he really needed a doctor because, second, he didn’t just catch a cold, but wounded up with pneumonia instead.

The doctor had left the bunker with the instructions to keep Flynn in his bed and get him to take his medicine, have lots of fluids and a light diet. Lucy made it her obligation to oversee him carrying out the doctor’s instructions.  
Which is why she spend a lot of time in his room (meaning: more time than usually).

He was sleeping when Lucy joined him again after getting a snack for herself, curled up under the flimsy blanket and, for the first time ever, Lucy thought he looked small. 

It was a disconcerting thought, Flynn looking small. He wasn’t imposing, not if he didn’t want to, and despite the bunker being tiny and dark, Lucy never felt crowded when she was in a room with him. He was more like a steady presence, comforting and assuring.

A quiet noise stopped her train of thought, Flynn was clutching his blanket and pulled it tighter around his shivering form. The bunker was always chilly, but it was only early evening, the real cold that made Rufus and Jiya cling to each other in their bed and Lucy seek out company, it only came at night.

Lucy leaned over him and moved to feel his temperature on his forehead but remembered how he flinched when Denise wanted to touch him earlier. Her hand hovered unsurly for a few seconds, before she pressed her fingers softly against the prominent cheekbone.

It wasn’t enough to wake him, but he winced anyways and turned away, buried his face in his pillow. His skin was hot to her touch, and its pale color made him look almost ghostly.

She couldn’t stop her sigh and was nearly unable to not brush a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. How long has it been since the last time he had felt a friendly touch? Not violence but love directed at him? Lucy didn’t want to think four years, not since Lorena and Iris, but it was what came to her mind. 

It was not fair. Lucy did think he was a monster, yes, at first, but it only lasted until she had finally learned the truth. About Rittenhouse and his family, how they had taken everything dear to him, hunted him and made him think the only way he could stand up to them, the only way he could fight them was with even more violence.

There was a voice at the back of her mind that asked if it wasn’t Lucy’s fault he terminatored his way through time. After all, it had been her journal that had sent him on this trip, she had given it to him and promised they would fight together and then had let him down over and over again, had pushed him away, called him a murderer and finally had gotten him arrested. The voice sounded suspiciously much like her mother.

But she knew there was another side to Garcia Flynn. The sadness and sorrow that made his shoulders bow and kept him in his room for hours, soft smiles and bad jokes, the insecurity, self-loathing and guilt that held him prisoner in his own mind; coffees in the morning and the tug on the bottle of vodka when Lucy had enough, the soft touches when he held her after Emma, the way he guided her down the stairs after Salem.

Garcia Flynn wasn’t a man without fault, far from it, but he didn’t deserve all the shit life threw on him either. 

“Lucy?”

She startled upon hearing his scratchy voice calling out. Flynn was awake, looking at her with tired eyes.

“Hey”, she did touch him now, gripped his shoulder and helped him sitting up, didn’t let go of the cup of water when his shaky fingers lifted to his mouth, letting their hands touch.

“You don’t have to do this”, Flynn said after he settled back against his pillow.

“What? Helping you? Staying with you?”

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. Lucy noticed how he fidgeted with his wedding ring. A tell, he was uncomfortable, she just wasn’t sure why. Because he was forced to show weakness? Because she was a witness to it?

“You don’t have to be here.”

He thought she didn’t want to be with him?

“What are you talking about? You’re sick and I’m here to help. End of story”, it came out a little more forceful than she intended, but maybe it helped to get the message through.

“I saw you”, he confessed, only she wasn’t sure what. “With Wyatt, before-“

Oh. _Oh._

“I don’t give a damn about Wyatt. Not right now. I’m here because I want to be, because I want you to get better”, she switched from the chair to bed, perched herself up on the edge, “Is it that hard to believe?”

Now she dared to do it, she actually pushed the strand of hair our of his face, let her fingers trail down the side of his face and then cupped his cheek. He stared at her with wide, glassy eyes, and Lucy didn’t think he dared to breathe. It may have been the fever that made his eyes so shiny, but she wasn’t sure. He looked at her like she hung the moon, like she was his reason to live, so utterly devoted to her that she wanted to cry.

“I-“, Lucy started, the same moment Flynn decided to breathe again. His lungs weren’t to grateful to be deprived of what reduced amount of oxygen they were getting, and Lucy could hear the hitch.

It took minutes, it was cruel, and Lucy could only stand beside him and rub his back while the coughs ripped through his body, produced all sorts of gross stuff and left him trembling, panting and gasping for air.

“It’s okay”, she soothed him, “It’ll get better soon, the meds will kick in and you’ll be better.”

Suddenly she was back in her mother’s bedroom with Amy, before Rittenhouse, Flynn and time machines. She cleaned, changed oxygen tanks, spoon fed soup and crackers and administered meds.

It was a painful memory of a happier time, that at the same time wasn’t that. Seeing her mother wither away and nevertheless feeling the pressure of her expectations, the prospect of being alone with Amy after the inevitable death of her mother.  
But now she knew what to do.

With practiced motions she freed him of the used tissues, held the cup for him to take a few more sips, then checked his nails and lips for a blueish tinge. There was one indeed, so she pulled the oxygen tank, left by the doctor as a precaution, closer to the bed, set it to 5 liters and carefully arranged the nasal tube. 

His eyes followed her every moment, but Lucy didn’t find herself bothered by it.

“You seem so… used to stuff like this”, Garcia noted. He was laying down again, on his side because it was a little easier to breathe that way.

“Amy and I took care of Mo- our mother when she had gotten worse. She hated hospitals and didn’t want a nurse at the house constantly. So, it was up to us”, Lucy didn’t meet his eyes, busied herself with getting another blanket out of the sort-of wardrobe they all had in their bedrooms.

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

She let out a dry laugh, of course it wasn’t. Carol made Amy put her life on hold, because Lucy was supposed to get tenure at Stanford and Amy’s podcasts weren’t real work anyway. She just had decided her daughters would care for her, without asking them.   
They would have done it, of course, they weren’t monsters and Carol had been their _mother_ , but some kind of choice would’ve been nice.

“It wasn’t, but we were used to it. Amy actually did most of it, I had Stanford. I kind of thought, that…”, she scoffed and shook her head.

“What did you think?”, even sick, with a sore throat, shivering and feeling miserable, Flynn cared for her, listened. This man was ridiculous.

“It’s stupid. I just- I thought if I got tenure, if I got to carry on her legacy, she could draw strength from it, you know? That it would give her the kick to beat the cancer. See? It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it is. You just wanted to help her.”

Lucy sighed and finally met his gaze. She could see that he was flagging, the fever was pulling him under again and yet he fought to stay awake in order to be there for her. Ridiculous.

“And now I want to help you”, she said firmly and took a towel to mop some sweat off his forehead. He shivered under her touch but let his eyes close. “Sleep, Garcia, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

A few hours later, he was still asleep. Jiya had come and gone, had brought some crackers and fruits in case either of them grew hungry. 

Lucy read in a book about the demolition of socialism she found in his personal little library, but couldn’t quite concentrate on the words, looked up every couple of lines. 

Flynn’s sleep had become restless, he tossed and turned, his hands twitched, and she could see his eyes moving behind the lids.

“Garcia?”, she asked softly, but only prompted a tiny whimper. “It’s okay, Garcia, you’re safe.”

“No…. No, please don’t… Leave her alone…”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Lucy squeezed his arm, tried to rub some comforting warmth into him.

“Lorena”, it sounded suspiciously like a sob, and, oh, Lucy’s heart, the one she carefully started to piece together again after Chinatown, it shattered into a million pieces.

She knew it wasn’t safe to wake a soldier trapped in a nightmare, not by touching him. He might lash out and hurt her, completely unaware of himself and his surroundings.

But Lucy didn’t care, not now, not when he was clearly suffering.

“Garcia!!”, she grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.

He startled awake, gulping down hasty, too short breaths and scrambled to come back to reality.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

She desperately tried to calm him, ground him. “It’s me, it’s Lucy.”

“Lucy…”, he sounded far away, but met her eyes. “Lucy.”

“Yes.”

A shudder ripped through him, but not from the fever. He tried to take a breath, but it caught in his throat.

“Lucy.” He fumbled for her hand and she met him halfway, then he sagged forward, and she caught him. There were more shudders now and unsteady breathing, his hands clutched at her sweater, and if the same sweater had a growing wet patch on her shoulder, then so be it.

She mumbled endearments and sweet nothings into his hair, not at all caring that she could get infected too. Lucy didn’t know exactly how long it lasted, the minutes blurred together at some point, but eventually the shudders and shivers ceased to an unsteady breathing and then, after a deep, weary sigh, his weight got a little heavier on her shoulder. 

Lucy lowered him back onto his pillows and pressed a soft kiss to his brow.

 

It was one and a half weeks later that Lucy found Garcia sitting on the couch in the common area. There was a blanket draped over his shoulders and steaming cup of tea in front of him, but he appeared to be asleep, snoring softly through a still clogged nose.

They hadn’t talked, really talked, since his nightmare. The meds had kicked in soon after, leaving him slumbering for the most time, but unfortunately, they hadn’t got along with the foods Jiya and Denise provided, so they spent the last three days feeding him up again.

Lucy carefully pulled the tea bag out of his mug before it became too bitter, then settled down beside him with another book. 

She made it through two chapters before she felt him stirring beside her.

“Lucy?”

“Good morning, sleeping beauty”, he rubbed his eyes at that, and it was really not fair that a six-foot-four man could be that adorable. “Your tea’s cold. I’ll make some more.”

She heard him following her, when she moved to fill up the electric kettle, then they sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. Lucy pushed a package of chocolate chip cookies to him and Garcia obediently took one and started to nibble at it.

“Lucy, about what happened, I’m sorry”, his voice was still hoarse and with him mumbling, she guessed the words rather than actually hearing them.

“What do you mean?”

He awkwardly cleared his throat, wincing when it hurt. “The, uh, the nightmare. I didn’t mean to-“

“Cry? Or you didn’t mean for me to see?”, Lucy leaned forward and boldly took his hand, “Garcia, you were sick, you had a bad dream, I was there to comfort you. End of story, no big deal.”

He seemed a little taken aback by that. “I can’t imagine it was a… pleasant sight seeing a man crying out for his dead wife.”

“So wasn’t you gasping for breath, shivering and shaking. But I stayed anyways.”

Lucy looked at Garcia and he met her eyes shortly, before turning his attention to the cookies. 

“But why…”

_Why were you there?_

“Because of you, Garcia. I was there because of you.”


	3. Communication suddenly cut off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet another prompt: Communication suddenly cut off  
> Pairing: Garcy on main, but there's DeniseXMichelle mentioned, some Riya and some Wyjess  
> Also: Lucy and Jess do some bonding. And Wyatt is a good friend in this.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr (sharedshield) to request some more.
> 
> Enjoy!

Couples get into fights. They do, it’s a healthy, human thing and most times they reconcile when they’ve calmed down.

Denise and Michelle fight, most times it’s about Denise’s job or the kids. Those are normal things.

Rufus and Jiya fight. About Star Wars and Star Trek, what take out to order and from which place. Sometimes, it’s about Jiya’s visions, sometimes it’s because Rufus acts carelessly on missions (and if Flynn is the snitch, well, nobody but Jiya and him has to know that).

Wyatt and Jessica fought. Often. About the army, about Wyatt not getting himself the help he needs, Delta Force, other guys. Now, that they’re at the bunker, they fight too. About Rittenhouse, about missions, about the baby.

Lucy and Garcia fight. Oh boy, and how they do. They’re both strong-willed people, stubborn and even though Garcia looks at Lucy like she hung the moon, he calls her out from time to time, doesn’t hold back when he thinks she’s wrong.

They don’t fight very often, but when the do it’s loud and it often ends with one of them storming away. They both sulk, give each other a cold shoulder for a few hours, maybe for a few days if it’s been particularly bad, but eventually the storm clouds dissipate and they find their way back to each other.

“You know what? Just do it, go, I don’t care. Go and get yourself killed if it’s not enough for you that it would at least affect me”, Lucy turn to storm off, but Garcia catches her hand before she’s out of reach.

“Lucy”, he pleads, most of the fight has already drained out of him, now he’s just tired wants her to understand. “I don’t want to go, I have to go. I’m the most capable to do it.”

“But you don’t have to go alone! Take at least Wyatt with you!” The suggestion to take Wyatt with him comes somehow reluctant. He’s still a wildcard concerning working with Garcia, which is, honestly, stupid.

“That wouldn’t make it any easier, Lucy. Plus, he still isn’t at a hundred percent yet.”

That’s true. Wyatt caught a bullet on the last mission, and no matter what he says, he still needs some time. But that doesn’t cool down Lucy’s anger.

“Then talk to Denise! Tell her you can’t do it like that!”

“Lucy”, Garcia says again, sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have to do it now. We have the information now, Rittenhouse doesn’t know we’re coming and the sooner we get to it, the more damage we can do.”

Denise had gotten information about a Rittenhouse location, they didn’t know for sure, but they’re pretty sure it’s where they store the Mothership. Denise couldn’t dispatch a unit of Homeland Security Agents, the risk ticking off a snitch, of a double agent working in the system was too high.

With Wyatt out of the game, Denise had to turn to Garcia. She wasn’t too comfortable with that, but it was the best choice they had.

“Do you even care?”, Lucy bellows now, so upset that tears are threatening to spill. “Do you even care that you could die doing this? Do you really want to give Rittenhouse the satisfaction to have killed every one of your family?”

It hurts, badly. And Lucy knows that. That’s why she said it. Because she can’t have him giving his life to Rittenhouse just like this.

“Lucy…”

Sometimes it seems her name is the only word Garcia remembers.

“Uh, guys?”, Rufus’ timid inquiry cuts through the heavy tension like a knife. “We should get this show on the road.”

“We’ll be right there”, Garcia promises and takes a step closer to Lucy, carefully caresses her arm. “I’m sorry, my love, I have to go. I promise I’ll be back in no time.”

He desperately searches for her eyes, but she turns away, moving away from his touch. It leaves him hollow.

 

Lucy joins the rest of the team a while after Flynn has left the bunker. She silently pulls a chair over to the improvised comm center, where a tiny screen shows a grainy picture of Garcia’s perspective and a pair of speakers transmit his voice.

From what she gathers, he’s almost at the location. Good for him.

“Y’know, Flynn”, Rufus mentions casually after shooting Lucy a cautious look, “Whenever Jiya and I get into a fight, I bring her something nice to apologize. Not to say that women are materialistic or something, but it usually is an appropriate gesture to show that you care.”

“Rufus, I’ve been married. I know how it works. Better than most husbands”, he utters a little self-deprecating laugh, and Lucy does her hardest not to smile. He doesn’t deserve a smile. Not now, not with this self-destructive behavior, not when he acts like it wouldn’t hurt her when something happens to him. Because something will happen to him, she knows it. 

“I’ve arrived at the compound. Two men at the front gate. I’m going to try the back door.”

Lucy tries not to listen. The fear has already settled into her bones, she doesn’t need dread to form a tight ball in her stomach, she feels sick enough as it is. 

Nevertheless, the noises from the speakers find their ways to her. Muffled gunshots, Garcia grunting as he drags the bodies into hidden spaces, his short and precise updates as he continues to fight his way into the building.

“I’m inside now”, he huffs eventually, Lucy has to strain to understand his words.

“Then you’re on your own.”

Denise’s words sound final. Lucy fights the urge to throw up.

Right now, she hates every person in this godforsaken bunker. She hates Denise for making him go on the assignment. She hates Wyatt for getting shot. She hates Rufus and Jiya for not convincing him to stay. She doesn’t know why she hates Connor, but Lucy’s sure she’ll find a reason.

“Sounds like there are people behind those doors”, Garcia says after he rummaged through an office space and several storage spaces of various sizes. Until now, he hasn’t found much, some weapons, some paperwork about employees and rented premises. No sign of the Mothership and, Lucy counts that as luck, no sign of Emma for now.

The doors his camera is pointed at are big enough to hide some sort of garage behind them, one that’s definitely big enough to store a time machine.

“Do you hear anything specific?”, Denise half obscures Lucy’s view of the screen and she barely keeps herself from shoving the agent away.

“No, it’s muffled. There are no other entryways but this gate.”

Denise takes a breath, thinks. Then she looks at Wyatt, who nods. Lucy wants to strangle him. Especially since it had been Garcia who dragged his unconscious ass back to the Lifeboat, after Emma decided to have a little fun with them.

“It’s your call.”

Lucy jumps up, her chair falls over with a deafening bang.

“Garcia-“

“I’ll do it.”

“No!-“

Wyatt grabs her wrist and pulls her back, blocks her sight, she hears Denise agreeing and wants to scream, to yell at him not to do it, to come back to her, but Wyatt presses his hand against her lips, muffling her words.

She fights him for a few seconds, in the background she hears how Garcia and Denise go over a last few details, claws at his hand until he pulls her to his chest, presses her flush against his warm body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But he’ll be distracted if he hears you. He needs to concentrate”, Wyatt whispers and Lucy stills. She knows he’s right and buries her face in his shirt, tries to block out the noises from the speaker. But with closed eyes they only become clearer.

“I’m going in.”

The doors open, for a moment everything is silent. Then unintelligible voices, Garcia starts to say something, but his voice is drowned out by the firing of guns.  
Lucy freezes. She grabs Wyatt’s shirt a little tighter.

Suddenly, static.

Wyatt turns, takes Lucy with him, they stare at the screen, it’s dark safe for the flashing of the guns. It turns completely black after another two seconds.

“Get me those comms up and working now!”

Jiya, Rufus and Connor jump into motion, frantically press buttons, yell tech gibberish at each other, but nothing they do works. The screen remains black, static crackling fills the air.

Lucy leaves.

 

It’s twenty minutes later when Jessica knocks at the unfamiliar steel door. She has never so much as looked at it before.

Without waiting for an answer, she opens it and finds Lucy sitting on ground, leaning against the frame of hers and Flynn’s shared bed. She’s also never been inside the room but isn’t surprised by what’s in front of her. It exactly depicts its owners, books stacked on every available surface but at the same time there’s a certain tidiness to it. Some gun stuff, concealed, but Jess knows what to look for. Little to no personal effects. 

She sits down beside Lucy.

“Did the others send you?”

“No.”

It’s the truth, they didn’t. Currently they’re worrying over Flynn’s position and Wyatt tries to convince Christopher to let him lead a team to get the Croat back.

She decided for herself to come, to look after Lucy, because, finally, this is something she can do, something she’s good at. Something she’s used to.

“How did you do it?”, Lucy asks eventually.

Jess shrugs. “You learn to get used to it. You distract yourself. You try not to think about it so much. Because that’s what gets to you. The what ifs and maybes. I used to think about all the stuff we’d do once Wyatt was home. Maybe it’s not the healthiest way to cope. But it worked for me.”

 

Lucy tries to distract herself, tries not to think about him. 

She chats with Jess for a while and is surprised by how pleasant her company is. The blonde tells her a little from when she met Wyatt at high school, of their tiny wedding which was everything they could’ve wished for. She keeps it light.

And for some time, it works. Then reality slams back into Lucy, full force, and she is reminded that they, her and Garcia, may never have any of this. That their love could die in this bunker.

She can’t breathe and finds herself over the toilet, retching. Wyatt is there (where did he come from?) and rubs her back softly. Others are there too, they take turns watching her, as if they need to keep her from drowning herself in the toilet.

 

In the middle of the night, Lucy wanders the cold and empty hallways and stops at the front door. 

_He will come through that damn door_ , she tells herself. _He will, and then I’ll punch the living daylights out of him._

 

He does.

There’s metal clanking and banging, it rises Lucy out of the exhausted slumbers she’s slipped in, and then he’s standing in the doorway, blocking it almost completely with his heavy gear and an enormous bouquet of wild flowers and a box with a ribbon.

Lucy doesn’t care, she makes him drop it all when she jumps into his arms, she also doesn’t care about the blood covering one side of his face when she kisses him.

Because he’s home and the storm clouds are gone.


End file.
